If an earthquake had shaken the rocks about his ears, Sam could not have been more shocked and startled than he was at the barking of the dog.

As for Ike, he was rendered speechless, for Maj had darted away without any apparent effort to hold him back.

"Ah, golly!" gasped Wah Shin, "de fat am allee gone in de file!"

Although Maj had done all the damage possible, for Sam could see by the movements of the Indians that they had heard the barking, yet he did not provoke his young master to anger.

Sam sprang down, caught the dog by the collar and pulled him back to their hiding place.

"I—I wish we'd a left dat ar dorg back home!" cried Ike. "He ain't did no good eber sence we started, but to eat up de grub; an' now he goes an' makes a fuss, jest whin we most wanted foh him to keep his tongue to hisself."

"See that he does not get out again," said Sam. "After all the dog only led the Indians to a discovery which they must have made sooner or later. Ah, I wish Ulna had not gone out. He knows the habits of these people and he would know what to do."

"De man as knows what to do ondah dese yer sarcumstances," groaned Ike, "is a heap sight smarter'n me."

"Plenty men know heap mo' den you," said Wah Shin, who was evidently in a bad humor. "You don' know 'nuff gettee in out lain."

"Hist! Keep still," said Sam, who had again clambered to his perch on the rock that commanded a view of the fire. "I can see men coming this way."

"Oh, laws a massy!" cried Ike, and with one hand he held the dog, while with the other he pressed his lips, "to keep from hollerin' right out," as he afterward expressed it.

Sam was not mistaken as to the movements of the Apaches. A number of them, led by their chief, had left Ulna in charge of the others and advanced boldly to the head of the ravine.

As a proof that they had no fear of the party they were in search of, one of the braves carried a torch, which he brandished above his head till he seemed to walk amid a fountain of sparks.

Taking a position where he could see without being seen, Sam, with an anxiously beating heart, watched the oncoming braves.

They approached to within about fifty yards of the rocks in which the little band had sought refuge, and came to a sudden halt.

Sam was wondering what would happen next, when, to his great surprise, the chief called out:

"Hello, white mans! Hello!"

The Indian spoke broken English in a way that no combination of letters could give a correct idea of, so for our own convenience, as well as for the reader's clearer understanding, we shall report what he said in the ordinary way, though Indians never use the elegant language some writers put into their mouths.

"What do you want?" was Sam's response to the Indian's outcry.

"Who you are?" asked the Indian.

"My name is Sam Willett."

"Where you come from?"

"From the caÑon."

"Oh, no; that's a Ute lie."

"I did not ask you to believe me, nor do I care to talk to you. Go off about your business, if you have any," said Sam, his confidence increasing every moment that he spoke.

"You got dog?"

"Yes."

"Big dog?"

"A very big dog."

"Him bite?"

"Yes, if you come nearer."

"That dog fat?"

At this question the Indians laughed and jumped about, as if they thought their chief had uttered a very fine joke, for to the Apache a fat dog is the daintiest dish in all the world.

Sam treated the inquiry about Maj's condition with haughty silence, while all the time the animal under consideration was growling and straining to break away from Ike, as if eager to exhibit his condition and his teeth.

"You all white men?" was Blanco's next question.

"No—not all," shouted Sam.

"Who you three be?"

"I shan't tell you."

"Why you no tell?"

"Because it is none of your business."

"Dat am de gospil truff," said Ike, "an' if he don't light out purty soon dar'll be a loose dog a-howlin' 'round, for I can't hold onter Maj much longer."

"My name Blanco. Me big Apache chief."

"Well, what do you want?" asked Sam.

"Me very good man."

"I am glad to hear it."

"Me and all my men, good friends to whites."

"And I am a good friend to the Indians; if you let me alone, I shall let you alone. Good-night," said Sam, hoping that the Indian might prove sensitive and take this as a hint to leave, but he had entirely mistaken his man.

"When sun come up then where you go?" asked the chief, with the same inquisitive manner.

At this juncture it struck Sam that he might be able not only to make these people his friends, but to utilize them in getting to his father, so he said in a kindlier tone than he had yet used:

"We are going to Hurley's Gulch."

"You live there?"

"I want to get there. Do you know the shortest road?"

This was asked as if Sam might be well acquainted with the longest road himself.

"Oh, yes," said the chief.

"If you guide me—by the shortest way—to Hurley's Gulch to-morrow morning, I will give you money, rifles, pistols, knives, blankets, and lots of other good things," said Sam with lavish generosity.

"You got money, rifles, knives, blankets, all good things with you here, eh?" asked the chief.

"We have all the arms we need for our own defense, and we know how to use them. But you guide me to Hurley's Gulch, and I will keep my word," said Sam, with more confidence than he felt.

Instead of replying at once to this generous proposition, the chief spoke with his followers for some minutes in low, guttural tones.

Sam could hear the murmur of their voices, and he rightly guessed that they were discussing whether to accept his offer in good faith, or to kill and rob himself and his companions.

"We see you, sun up; you no leave," called out the chief at length.

"You must make up your mind to-night, for I am going to leave early in the morning," said Sam.

"Oh, all right. I on hand," was the chief's reply.

Again they consulted together, and Sam could see that four men remained behind to watch, while the others, with the chief, went down to the fire.

All this time Sam was in great trouble about Ulna, for he did not even suspect that he was a prisoner in the hands of his cruel tribal foes.

Ike and Wah Shin were in great tribulation about themselves, for they had no faith in the Indians; indeed, they firmly believed that the Apaches would scalp them all on the morrow.

Ike gave expression to his feelings in the remark:

"When we was down in that yar canyon den I felt ez if I'd rudder be in any odder place in dis worl', or de nex'; but now I'd a heap sight sooner be down dar dan up yar."

Though tired and sleepy, Sam could not think of closing his eyes that night, for he feared to trust Ike or Wah Shin on guard, and he half expected an attack from the Apaches before morning.

He knew that any attempt at escape would be detected, and might hasten the struggle he was so anxious to avoid.

More than once he wished himself back in the caÑon, but the thought that he was nearer to his father, and the hope that after all the Indians might not be so bad as he feared, gave him courage to face the future.

He knew that resistance against such a force, and with his own limited supply of food and water, would be downright folly. So when the chief appeared before the rocks, just as the sun was rising, he went out to meet him, and shook hands with him.

"Me come down to water, eat something," said the chief, in what seemed a hospitable spirit.

Sam, Ike, and Wah Shin took up their bundles and with the dog, went back to the spring.

Here to their amazement and horror they found Ulna lying near the fire with his hands and feet bound.